I 



This book is made and sold to benefit the Scholar- 
ship founded by 
The Springfield Hampton Club 
in memory of 
ELIZABETH MITCHELL AMES 



FOR SALE AT 

JOHNSON'S BOOKSTORE 
Main Street 



From A NEW ENGLAND 
WOMAN'S DIARY DIXIE 

in 1865 

By 

MARY AMES 



SPRINGFIELD 
1906 



Copyright, 1906 
By Mary Ames 



UBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Co Dies Received 

AUG 11 1906 

n Co»ngrit Entry 
k XLASSf CI, XXc. No. 
COPY B. 



The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. V. S. A. 



INTRODUCTION 



Some of Miss Ames's friends, who 
have enjoyed listening to the stories 
of her southern school life, have fre- 
quently begged her to print them. 

This opportunity of helping to edu- 
cate a pupil in that wonderful school, 
which is so great a contrast to the scene 
of her early efforts; has decided her to 
allow the diary to be prepared for 
publication. 

In making this gift to Hampton, she 
emphasizes her first gift to the negro 
of eighteen months' service, and per- 
petuates the memory of the sister who 

was her closest friend and dearest com- 

v 



Introduction 



panion, and whom Springfield will long 
remember as strong and brave and 
helpful; but especially will she be re- 
membered for "her wit that woke their 
laughter and left a kindly glow." 
Even the boy who left the daily paper 
at her door felt her kindness and 
"caught the secret of her character." 

On the day of her funeral, in June, 
1903, he left three roses at the house, 
with the following words: 

" 6 She doeth little kindnesses 

Which most leave undone or despise; 
For naught that sets one heart at ease 
And giveth happiness and peace 
Is low esteemed in her eyes.' 

From the morning newsboy, for whom she 
placed out such splendid apples. " 

June, 1906. E. L. C. 

vi 



FROM A NEW ENGLAND 
WOMAN'S DIARY IN 
DIXIE IN 1865 

Miss Ware, of Cambridge, came to 
Springfield to visit Mrs. Farrar. The 
story of her experiences with the col- 
ored people in the South was so in- 
teresting that my friend Emily Bliss 
and I became enthusiastic to follow 
her example. 

We went to Boston, saw the chief of 
the Freedmen's Bureau, were exam- 
ined, and enrolled as teachers. 

We were ordered to leave at once for 

Hilton Head, and report to Mr. Dodge, 

the agent there. Our families ridi- 

1 



A New England TVomari* s 



culed our going and tried to stop us, 
prophesying our return in less than a 
month. We made our preparations, 
which were not elaborate, — a chair, a 
plate, knife, fork and spoon; cup and 
saucer, blanket, sheets and pillow- 
cases, and sacking for a bed of hay or 
straw to be found wherever we should 
be situated, and we added some crack- 
ers, tea, and a teapot. 

We sailed from New York on the 
steamer Fulton, May I, 1865, and after 
a pleasant sail reached Hilton Head 
on the morning of the fourth day. 

We landed after breakfast, and 

walked to the place where we took the 

oath of allegiance to the United States. 

We called upon Mr. Dodge, and found 
2 



Diary in Dixie 



with him five or six teachers. We 
were not cordially received, and evi- 
dently were not wanted, and were ad- 
vised to proceed to Charleston and 
report to Mr. Redpath, who was in 
charge of the Freedmen's Bureau there. 

We met a Mr. Blake from New 
Haven, a pleasant young man, who 
offered to escort us to Charleston. He 
is employed by the Boston society to 
look after forlorn females who come 
as teachers. 

At eight in the evening, we left Hil- 
ton Head on a small steamer loaded 
with soldiers on their way to Charles- 
ton, to be discharged from service. 
There was no place for us. We had 
to sit the long night through, on a 
3 



A New England JVomatfs 



bench with no back, surrounded by 
soldiers smoking, playing cards, and 
telling stories — the longest night I 
ever knew. 

Arriving at Charleston early in the 
morning, we were taken to Mr. Red- 
path's office. He being absent, Mr. 
\ Pillsbury, of Massachusetts, came to 
meet us. He gave us a most cordial 
greeting. 

Emily, weary, discouraged, and 
homesick, threw herself sobbing into 
his arms, saying, "Oh! sir, have you 
a wife?" 

At once, he took in the situation, 
called an ambulance, and put us in 
charge of a sergeant with a note to his 
wife. 

4 



Diary in Dixie 



Mrs. Pillsbury, a lovely, motherly 
woman, took us in and made us com- 
fortable. They were living in one of 
the most elegant mansions in Charles- 
ton; the furniture, pictures, and orna- 
ments were all as their owner had left 
them. The garden was a delight; I 
never saw finer roses. 

Mr. Redpath came to see us in the 
evening, wished us to remain in the 
city and teach in the public schools, 
and was quite disturbed and disap- 
pointed that we objected. We felt 
that we were not fitted for regular 
teaching. We were then offered a 
position on one of the islands where 
several thousand negroes were sent 
after Sherman's march. That suited 
5 



A New England TVoman y s 



us, and we were ordered to leave in 
two days. 

Meanwhile, we visited different 
schools, and saw how unfitted we were 
for teachers. 

May io, 1865. 

At one o'clock we left Charleston 
on the propeller Hudson^ for Edisto 
Island. Sailing along the shore and 
up Edisto River, we reached the land- 
ing-place just at sunset. 

It seemed like fairy land — every- 
thing so fresh and green — the air so 
soft. 

We brought on the boat a hundred 
and fifty negroes, who, as soon as they 

landed, built fires to cook their supper; 

6 



Diary in Dixie 



the live-oaks in the background, with 
their hanging moss, had a very pictur- 
esque effect. 

We spent the night on the boat, the 
captain giving us his stateroom. We 
had a visit from a Mrs. Webb and one 
of the officers of the $2d Regulars, 
colored infantry, two companies of 
which are stationed here to protect the 
island from guerrillas. We were asked 
to breakfast at headquarters, about 
half a mile from the landing. 

May ii. 

At seven we started for camp, which 
was on the plantation formerly owned 
by William Seabrook. They gave us a 
good breakfast; then the Colonel placed 

7 



A New England Woman's 



at our disposal a large army wagon, 
drawn by four horses, to take us with 
our trunks and boxes to find a place to 
live. The drive was delightful, the 
road shaded and cool, winding under 
immense live-oak trees covered with 
moss; the wild grape was in bloom, 
and the air filled with its perfume. 
We passed several houses crowded with 
negroes, and could not make up our 

i 

minds to stop at any. We drove on 
some three or four miles further and, 

i 

as it began to be very warm and un- 
comfortable, we decided to stop at the 
very next house, negroes or no negroes. 
Soon we reached what must have once 
been a pretty avenue, now rather for- 
lorn. Driving in, we found negro 
8 



Diary in Dixie 



cabins on either side, and a large house 
at the end. 

The inhabitants of the cabins came 
flocking out to welcome us with how- 
dys, and offers of service to the 
missis. The former owner of the 
plantation was Dr. Whaley, the pos- 
sessor of a hundred slaves, many of 
whom were now returned and living 
in the cabins. He deserted the place 
four years before, and the house had 
a desolate appearance — the windows 
gone, and shutters hanging by one 
hinge. Our trunks, box, and chairs 
were placed on the piazza and the 
army wagon was driven away. We 
looked at each other; our hearts were 
full, and if we could have seen any 
9 



A New England Woman* s 



honorable way to escape and go home 
we certainly should have gone. 

However, we choked down our feel- 
ings, and the front door being opened 
by a black man and a woman, with 
half a dozen children hanging to her 
skirts, we entered our home to be. 
The rooms were large and airy (minus 
windows), but filled with sticks, plaster 
from the ceilings, and dirt of all kinds. 
We selected two rooms and asked if 
they could be cleared and cleaned. 
Uncle Jack and Aunt Phoebe, who lived 
in one of the cabins, came to our as- 
sistance, and having no brooms, mops, 
or any conveniences for cleaning, man- 
aged with the gray moss to wipe off 

the upper dust from the floors; then 
10 



Diary in Dixie 



dashing on cold water, and with their 
feet shuffling the moss, contrived to 
wash the floors decently clean. 

Meanwhile, the woman, Sarah, made 
the tea, which, with some crackers, we 
took out of our trunk; — and this, the 
first meal in our new home, we ate on 
the piazza. It was fortunate that we 
had chairs. The bedsteads were acci- 
dentally left behind in New York, but 
were to be sent on the next steamer. 
We spread our bed-sacks on the floor 
after it was dry, for we soon learned 
there was neither hay nor straw to be 
had to fill them, covered them with 
our waterproofs, and, as we had blan- 
kets and pillows, our beds were soon 
ready. 

ii 



A New England JVomatfs 



About sundown Mr. Blake appeared, 
and with him two young women teach- 
ers, also members of the Freedmen's 
Bureau. They brought a few black- 
berries, picked by the roadside, which 
were a welcome addition to our crackers 
and tea. On our way up-stairs to bed, 
we were met by an angry old woman, 
who said we had taken possession of 
her quarters, and must pay her for 
them. We were frightened, and ex- 
plained that we were sent by the United 
States Government, and must be re- 
spected accordingly. She went away, 
but soon began to throw stones and 
pieces of crockery into our open win- 
dows. We were alarmed, for we did 

not know how many were leagued with 
12 



Diary in -Dixie 



her. It began to rain and a heavy 
thunder shower soon dispersed our 
assailants. But sleep was impossible. 
Having no doors to close, we did not 
know what might happen in a strange 
land among strange people. I got out 
the hammer we had brought in our 
box and kept it in my hand all night, 
ready to beat out the brains of any one 
attacking us. 

May 12. 

The first thing we did this morn- 
ing was to get our flag hung out in 
front of the house. It is quite large 
and floated out finely. The ne- 
groes appeared glad to see it. We 
unpacked the big box, turning it on 
13 



A New England Woman* s 

its side to serve for a table and wash- 
stand. 

Jim and Sarah, with six children, 
are living in the back part of this house. 
We are glad to have them for protec- 
tion, and find them useful. 

Sarah is a fine-looking woman, quiet 
and sensible. She has always been 
a house-servant, was born and reared 
in Richmond, was sold with three 
children to Dr. Leavitt of Charleston, 
leaving the father of her children in 
Richmond. Since that, she has had six 
children, having had five husbands, or 
men with whom she was obliged to live, 
as she was sold from one master to 
another. Jim was the last one. At 
the beginning of the war, Sarah and 
H 



Diary in Dixie 



her children were sent with her mis- 
tress to Sumterville. 

When Sherman and his army came 
along, Sarah was told by her mistress 
that if she followed the army she must 
take all her children, not thinking she 
would go. 

When the mistress found that Jim 
and Sarah were actually going, she 
asked one of the Union officers to make 
Sarah stay behind. He told her he 
had no power to do that; the woman 
was free and could act her own pleasure. 

Sarah had a mind to stay on, as her 
mistress had always treated her kindly, 
but Jim insisted on joining Sherman's 
train. Just before they left, one Sat- 
urday Campbell, who had been one of 
*5 



A New England Woman* s 



Sarah's five husbands, and was the 
father of her child Anne, came and 
claimed Sarah. Jim fought and con- 
quered him, thus winning Sarah and 
her children. They walked nearly a 
hundred miles, Sarah carrying Mar- 
gery, a two-year-old child, in her arms. 
She kept the other children in front of 
her, for many lost their children. 

After dinner of tea and crackers, 
which was our breakfast and supper 
also for nearly three weeks, we visited 
our neighbors. Their faces shone when 
we told them why we had come. They 
all seemed decent and sensible crea- 
tures. 

We learn that there are ten thousand 
16 



Diary in Dixie 



negroes here. The officers and the 
teachers are the only white people 
allowed on the island, except the com- 
missary, who is four miles away. 

The negroes go to him once a month 
for rations. Sherman's plan is to 
have the negroes take care of them- 
selves; they have planted corn, 
beans, and cotton, and are to repay 
the Government when their crops are 
gathered. This seems to be under- 
stood by all. 

We walked down the road to a 
church, which bore marks of destruc- 
tion similar to those of our house. 
The frame of the organ remains, the 
windows are gone, doors off their 
hinges, and pews mutilated, but we 
i7 



A New England Woman's 



decided that it would serve our pur- 
pose well as a school-house. 

We have announced that we will 
open school Monday. Many of the 
older blacks ask if they are too old to 
learn to read. They cannot come to 
school during the day as it is planting 
time, so we have promised to have an 
evening school at the house twice a 
week. 

We have engaged Sarah, for five or 
six dollars a month, to wash, iron, and 
do the little cooking we shall have. 

Her second son, Zack, about four- 
teen, is to wait upon us. He was 
with Dr. Leavitt, at Fort Sumter, and 
one day a horse on which he was rid- 
ing was killed by a Union shell. 
1 8 



Diary in Dixie 



At the sutler's we found a man 
who is both baker and carpenter. He 
is to put locks or bolts on our doors, 
and to set some window glass. 

All the negroes we have seen are 
industrious, and their cabins look neat. 
We found plum trees loaded with fruit 
all along the way, and plenty of black- 
berries. 

May 13. 

Mr. Blake came to see if he could be 
of service. He, with the aid of Jim, 
took our big packing-box and made us 
a table to eat from, and a bench to sit 
upon at meal time, so that we need 
not bring our chairs down from the 
bedrooms. Chairs are a great luxury. 
19 



A New England Woman* s 



In the afternoon, we walked to the 
"Mikell Place," two miles away, where 
live two teachers, also belonging to 
the Freedmen's Bureau, — Miss Kemp- 
ton, from New Bedford, and Miss 
Stanton, from Framingham. Their 
house was large, dirty, and dilapidated. 
About a well in a large courtyard in 
front of the house, several blacks 
with tubs were doing their week's 
washing. 

Returning, we met many people com- 
ing from the commissary with their 
rations. Some had sacks, others boxes 
or tubs on their heads. They asked 
if we had rations, and being told that 
we had not yet been supplied, they 

lowered their tubs and offered to give 
20 



Diary in Dixie 



us some of theirs. We thought them 
very generous. 

Sunday, May 14. 

A beautiful day, though rather warm. 
We started for church, but to our sur- 
prise met the congregation coming 
away. There was to be a funeral at 
a distance, and the minister had to 
omit the church service. Later we 
saw the procession, a long one. They 
were singing a melancholy dirge as 
they walked. As they passed, they 
spoke to us, the men touching their 
hats, and the women curtsying. 

Seating ourselves on the steps of a 
deserted house, we soon had a crowd 
about us. One girl amused us — a 

21 



A New England JVomari*s 



regular Topsy, who had come from 
Georgia with Sherman. She exam- 
ined our clothes, got behind Emily, 
felt of her dress, and said, "Big plaits 
in skirts are just coming into style." 
The fashion had reached the South, 
and all the ladies had been changing 
their skirts. 

Then catching sight of the " water- 
fall" on my head, she was amazed, 
and said, " Rebel ladies don't know 
how to make them." 

Monday, May 15. 

The weather is much the same that 
we have in June," cool mornings and 
evenings, warm in the middle of the 
day. 

22 



Diary in Dixie 



We opened school at nine o'clock, 
with fifteen scholars, nine boys, and 
six girls. Some were decently clad, 
others filthy and nearly naked. One 
or two knew their letters. None could 
read. We dismissed early, as the chil- 
dren seemed tired and we were de- 
cidedly weary. 

On the way home we met the old 
woman who threw crockery at our 
windows the night of our arrival. She 
told us she was "great on religion," 
and read us a long sermon — how to 
live that we might die when called — 
and ended by saying she was "as poor 
as Job's turkey." When asked how 
poor that was, she said he had but 
one feather, and that all she had 
23 



A New England TVomari* s 

was on her back, and mighty little of 
that. 

We have hired boys to collect and 
cure the gray moss for our bed-sacks. 
At any rate, it will be better than the 
bare boards, on which we are now 
lying. 

May i 6. 

Passing a tumbled-down house on 
our way to school, we heard hammers, 
and going in, found some men making 
a coffin out of the boards. During 
school, we saw them back of the church 
digging the grave, hoeing out the dirt 
with their large cotton hoes (their only 
implement). 

We had twenty-eight scholars. Two 
24 



Diary in Dixie 



of the new ones can read. This is 
pleasanter than teaching ABC. Two 
children, John and Eliza, came five 
miles to school. John was fourteen 
and a bright boy. He was nearly 
naked, and so filthy that I did not 
think I could have him near me, and 
advised him to go into the creek to 
bathe. 

Every noon I take home with me a 
troop of children, to whom I give 
thread, needles, and pieces of cloth, 
that they may have their garments 
patched at home. We are trying to 
teach cleanliness as well as reading 
and spelling, but it is a tough job, for 
the poor creatures have lived so long 
in a filthy condition that they don't 
^5 



A New England Woman* s 



know what it is to be clean. Soon 
after we reached home, Eliza came run- 
ning to tell us that her brother John 
had been drowned in the creek. He 
went in with several others, got be- 
yond his depth and did not know how 
to swim. The tide, which was coming 
in, is very strong just at that point, 
and John was carried beyond the 
reach of those with him. It was a 
terrible shock to us, and I felt partly 
responsible. 

Our dinner was excellent. We had 
hominy, brought by a man we met on 
the road one day, and one of our chil- 
dren caught some crabs, which Sarah 

boiled. We feel as if we had had a 

26 



Diary in Dixie 



sumptuous feast — such a change from 

tea and crackers! 

There is an open fireplace in Sarah's 

room, where she makes our tea in a 

small tin cup, which we brought from 

home, and boils hominy in — I don't 

know what, — nor do I ask. At night 

all the family (six children) stretch 

themselves on the floor in front of the 

fire, and so sleep. They have no 

bedding of any kind, neither chairs 

nor tables. They have a bowl, one 

plate, and one spoon. At meal-times 

they take turns in using these. They 

sit on the floor of the piazza ; a portion 

is put into the bowl, — hominy or 

beans with a tiny bit of salt pork, — 

and they eat by turns. The children 
27 



A New England Woman* s 

are well behaved. George, the eldest 
boy, is religious and dull; Zack, our 
waiter boy, is a high-flier; Charlotte, 
quiet and not well; Ann, a pert piece, 
bright-eyed and devoted to us. Ben 
is a nice, chubby little fellow, who will 
go to school and can't keep awake. 
Ann flies at him every few minutes, 
and shakes him up. Margery, two 
years old, is a pretty little creature. 

To-day I found a singular insect on 
my neck. We have been warned we 
should meet with such enemies, but 
this is the first of this kind. Wood- 
ticks we have already had, mosquitoes 
and fleas are yet to come. 

28 



Diary in Dixie 



May 17. 

A very warm morning. We find 
our ^half-mile walk to school tiresome. 
A large school, sixty-six scholars, and 
rather unruly. Poor Emily is not 
adapted to deal with rough boys. I 
am obliged to go to her aid and, stamp- 
ing my feet and shouting my commands, 
bring them to order. We are teaching 
the children the days of the week, the 
months, and also to count. 

Mr. Blake visited the school, and 
we had a call also from the colored 
Baptist minister, who has a school 
somewhere on the island. 

He asked to what denomination we 

belonged. He had never heard of 

Unitarians and asked what was our 
29 



A New England Woman's 



belief. We told him, and then he 
asked us to teach in his Sunday school, 
which we agreed to do in the fall when 
it is cooler. 

Mr. Redpath has issued a mandate 
forbidding the reading of the Bible in 
school — no religious exercise except 
saying the Lord's Prayer. 

John's body has been washed up 
by the tide and recovered. 

May i 8. 

Mr. Blake made a blackboard for 
us, wasting several eggs and nearly all 
our ink before he succeeded. 

Jim killed a snake, which he called 
a chicken snake, as they come where 
there are chickens. Our neighbors 
30 



Diary in Dixie 



have many chickens so tame that they 
are in our house constantly. Last 
week a big rattlesnake was killed in 
our garden, and a huge black snake in 
our yard. We have seen only one, 
and that the children called a glass 
snake, for when struck it flew into 
many pieces all wriggling and alive. 
We see lizards everywhere. 

Six new scholars. A woman came 
with a prayer-book, asking to be taught 
to read it. We told her we would 
teach her willingly, but it would be 
some time before she could read that. 
She was satisfied, and as she was leav- 
ing, put her hand under her apron 
and brought out two eggs — one she 
put in Emily's lap, the other in mine. 
3 1 



A New England JVomari*s 



Our first rations came to-day, brought 
by the men from headquarters. A 
large box — a soap-box — with beans 
at the bottom, covered by a piece of 
dirty paper, then a layer of brown 
sugar, and on top of all a bar of soap 
and six candles. Some ground coffee 
in a paper, a smaller bag with fat 
bacon and salt pork, and a half barrel 
of flour. 

Emily came down and viewed the 

lot, burst into tears and wished that 

the grave we had seen hoed out at the 

church was to lay her in. Poor Emily! 

I was disheartened, but knew we must 

make the best of it. We walked up to 

the sutler's, who said he would take 

all we did not want, and give us in 
32 



Diary in Dixie 



exchange from his stores. We got 
condensed milk, butter, cornmeal, 
and other things, and Sarah cooked 
us a royal supper. We felt better 
after a decent meal, and Emily con- 
cluded to live a while longer. 

Later a woman came in suffering 
severe pain. We administered cay- 
enne tea sweetened with brown sugar, 
and she was relieved. 

The evening was delightfully cool. 
We had our first evening school for 
men and women on our piazza. It 
was well attended, all sitting on the 
floor and steps. One woman, who 
was much bent with rheumatism, and 
seemed very old, said she was "Mighty 
anxious to know something." 

33 



A New England Woman* s 



Late in the evening Dr. Mason 
came to tell us that Jefferson Davis, 
Stevens, and Clay had been taken 
prisoners in Georgia and sent North. 

May 19. 

School went off very well — boys 
less noisy. A man came in and sat 
at the back of the church to listen to 
our teaching, and the boys thought 
we had engaged him to whip them if 
they misbehaved. We have found out 
that the boys are afraid of their fathers, 
who are "Great on licking/' so we shall 
threaten to report them if they are 
unruly. 

The ivy round our house is beauti- 
ful; the lower part of the building is 
34 



Diary in Dixie 



covered. We have got the men to 
trim up the trees in our avenue, and 
to hoe out the road. On either side 
of our door are clove trees, full of fruit, 
and in the yard we have found a 
Cape Jessamine in full flower and a 
white Crepe Myrtle. We are trying 
to get more sun on the house. 

May 20, Saturday. 

No school, and we devote the day 
to house-cleaning. We feel so much 
better for having more food. Crackers 
and tea are not strength-giving. Dr. 
Mason came in the large army wagon, 
bringing us from Beaufort a stove, tea- 
kettle, and coffee-pot. We cannot have 
our stove put up, as Jim, our Prime 
35 



A New England Woman* s 



Minister, is having toothache and can- 
not attend to matters. We already 
see a change in the appearance of 
our scholars. They are cleaner, and 
though wearing the same garments 
the rents are sewed up and patches 
are put on. 

May 21. 

Lieutenant Jenkins, who with Mrs. 
Webb had invited us to spend the day 
in the camp, came for us in his car- 
riage. The three-mile drive was 
beautiful. We did not half appreciate 
it the day we came. The six officers, 
who were smoking on the piazza, gave 
us a cordial greeting. 

At the end of a shady walk back of 

36 



Diary in Dixie 



the house are the fish and terrapin 
ponds. Around the fish pond is a 
broad carriage drive shaded by im- 
mense oak trees. A lovely grove of 
large trees beyond was approached by 
an avenue of tall laurels, planted so 
closely that they formed a thick hedge 
on either side, and met over our heads, 
shutting out completely the rays of the 
sun. At four o'clock we went out to see 
the dress parade of the colored soldiers. 

May 23. 

Nearly the whole school escorted us 
home to-day. 

We sat on the piazza, and dealt out 
needles, thread, combs, and dresses 
from Mrs. Pillsbury's store. 

37 



A New Em land JVomari ' s 



One girl brought back a dress she 
had taken home, for "Ma says it don't 
fit, and she don't want it." It was 
rather large and rather short, but she 
was very dirty and ragged, and we told 
her she must keep it. Another girl 
promised to bring us a chicken if she 
could have a dress. We gave her one, 
and she soon came back with six eggs. 

We live with hens, pigs, and quan- 
tities of rabbits, which the children 
have for pets. Occasionally, a rabbit 
is killed and eaten. 

Jim has put up our stove; the pipe 
being too short for the chimney, he 
has put it out a window. 

n 



Diary in Dixie 



May 24. 

It was one o'clock when school 
closed. We have so many grades that 
we cannot put them in classes, and it 
takes longer. The big boys are un- 
ruly. Emily is a good singer, and 
when the school is too much for us, 
we start singing, and that calms them 
down. 

Several children came and demanded 
clothing as a right. A girl brought 
back a dress, saying it was "scant." 
She wanted a fuller skirt and a hoop- 
skirt. 

May 25. 

School was getting pretty unruly 
when a big man appeared to ask for 
39 



A New England Woman's 

"learning." The boys quieted down. 
I had threatened to get a man to help 
me whip the bad boys, and evidently 
they thought he had come for that 
purpose. 

We paid Sarah her wages; the first 
money she ever earned or handled. 

We found, growing in great quanti- 
ties beside the road, the Passion flower, 
in full bloom. 

Some men brought the dried moss 
for our beds. It is cured by soaking 
it five days in salt water, then drying 
it in the sun. It is jet black and very 
dry. We have paid Uncle Jack for it. 
Jim will pick it over, and fill our bed- 
sacks. We shall have soft beds to lie 
upon to-night. 

40 



Diary in Dixie 



Dr. Mason advises us to go to the 
bay soon. It will not be safe to stay 
on the island after the weather be- 
comes hot. There is danger of fever. 

Saturday, May 27. 

No school. The morning being fine 
and the roar of the ocean plainly heard, 
we decided to drive to the bay. I can- 
not describe our conveyance. There 
were large spaces between the floor 
boards of the cart; both horses were 
skeletons, one large and the other 
small. The harness was of ropes and 
small cords, with twine for reins. 

The road was much overgrown, 
flowers of all kinds lined the way, and 
turkey buzzards were sitting in solemn 
41 



A New England JVomari* s 



conference. Within a quarter of a 
mile of Edingsville — as the bay is 
called — we reached a creek, which 
we crossed on a flat-bottomed raft and 
walked to the long row of houses on 
the beach. Once this was a famous 
summer resort, and some of the houses 
are very pretty. The beach is broad 
and hard, and the surf was grand. 
We went to several houses, looking 
for one that suited us for a summer 
home. 

Meeting Mr. Everett and the two 
ladies, they invited us to share with 
them a pleasant house they had found. 
We will decide later. 

After we had gone to bed we heard 

a clatter of horses' feet, and Dr. Mason 
42 



Diary in Dixie 



and Captain Crissy appeared with our 
mail. Fatigue and headaches were 
forgotten; we sat up half the night 
reading our letters and talking of home. 

May 28. 

The army wagon brought our long- 
delayed and much-needed bedsteads. 
With them and our moss beds we shall 
not want to get up at five every morn- 
ing. We have lain on the bare floor 
nearly three weeks. 

Our shutters and blinds have been 
mended, and we sent to Charleston for 
glass for the windows. 

Uncle Jack's pig was stolen last 
night, the second within a few weeks. 
He says he is going to Charleston to 
43 



A New England JVomari* s 

consult a fortune-teller to find out the 
thief. We advise him to stay at home 
and to watch for the guilty person. 

May 29. 

Walker has made us a chair and 
table, for which we paid a good price. 
Some coarse straw hats, suitable only 
for bathing, cost us a dollar and a half 
apiece. 

In our walk this afternoon, we saw 
a man and woman who seemed well- 
informed. They hope to prove to the 
"Secesh" that colored folks can work 
and accomplish something without mas- 
ters or overseers; for it has always been 
said that " Niggers wouldn't work un- 
less compelled. " The woman's name 
44 



Diary in Dixie 



is Lydia Polite. She gave us cucum- 
bers and peanuts. 

We asked another woman if she 
is contented. She answered, "God 
bless you, I reckon I am — I heard for 
a long time of war and the coming of 
the Yankees, and I spects my bones 
be white before I see that time, but I 
did live to see them, bress de Lord." 
She said she had raised "Ten head of 
childen." Three little ones were with 
her. 

Mr. Everett brought us some school 
books, for which we are thankful. 

May 31. 

We walked across the fields to the 
Baptist Church, where the colored 
45 



A New England JVomari* s 



minister has his school. He came to 
meet us — said his mother was up- 
stairs sick with smallpox, so we only 
went through the lower floor, and out 
the back door into the pretty garden. 
In the evening the family sang for us, 
" Heaven's bell ringing — won't turn 
back heaven's bell ringing for believ- 
ers." Another was, "Sister, you come 
too late, the Devil been and shut the 
gate and carried off the keys"; then 
"Don't judge me, Lord, O Lord — 
don't be offended," and "Thar's re- 
joicing ober yander"; "Let me go, 
Jacob will not let me go," this repeated 
over and over, and "Oh, my Lord, 
help us." 



46 



Diary in Dixie 



June i. 

President's Fast — no school. Zack 
is in trouble again; he did not go to 
church as ordered. We have told 
Sarah we cannot have so much "lick- 
ing"; it is too much for our nerves, 
to say nothing of Zack's back. 

Mr. Everett arrived, sick. We 
have cleared out one of our back rooms 
making it as comfortable as possible, 
and have put it at his disposal. He 
has overworked, and walked too much 
in the hot sun. 

A rattlesnake was killed in the yard. 
It had wound itself round a hen, that 
was sitting on her nest under a laurel. 

At the store we met the captain of 
the little boat that brought us to the 
47 



A New England JVomari* s 



island, and the boat agent. They are 
surprised that we have stayed, thought 
we were "too fine." As our rations 
seem to have been overlooked, they 
offered to get them for us. 

Mrs. Pillsbury sent us a bag of rice, 
and we have been living on that, with 
the few eggs and vegetables we could 
get. 

June 2. 

Mr. Everett is quite sick. We sent 
to the commissary for the Government 
doctor, who had gone to Beaufort. 
Then we sent to headquarters for Dr. 
Mason. He says Mr. Everett has 
typhoid symptoms. 

At school there were seventy schol- 

48 



Diary in Dixie 



ars, who behaved pretty well. A girl 
came just recovering from smallpox. 
She was indignant when we sent her 
away, but we pacified her by telling 
her she could come back in a few 
weeks. Going up to our bedroom we 
met on the stairs a rattlesnake. We 
screamed lustily, and Uncle Jack, 
Jim, George, and Zack appeared. I 
jumped over it, and it fell through the 
balusters to the hall, where the men 
killed it. We find in our room many 
holes where it could have come up in 
the, walls from the cellar. To-morrow 
we shall paper our walls with news- 
papers. 



49 



A New England TVomari* s 



June 3. 

Our regular cleaning day. Phoebe 
came to scour the floors. She was much 
pleased with a pink calico apron I 
made for her. Uncle Jack brought 
us a ripe fig. Never saw one before. 
We shall have plenty if the children 
don't steal all that are on the tree. 

Mr. Everett has been telling us the 
amount of rations the Government 
allows each person. It is ample, and 
we are sure we have never had our full 
allowance. 

We have papered part of our cham- 
ber with newspapers, covering the 
places where the plastering is broken, 
where the snake may have come up. 

Little Ben went to walk with us. 
50 



Diary in Dixie 



Passing Sandy's house, he said, "When 
Sandy no at school, me make no piece 
of noise/' Passed the evening listen- 
ing to George and Zack. Their owner 
rented them out to a hotel-keeper in 
Sumterville. They were worked day 
and night, never going to bed until 
after one o'clock, and getting up at 
four to go to the station on arrival of 
trains. Sundays they were allowed 
one hour to go home, three miles 
away, for clean clothes. The hotel- 
keeper paid their master twenty dollars 
a month for each. 

Sunday, June 4. 

No churchgoing — too warm, and 
the walk too long for Sundays, as we 
5 1 



A New England Woman* s 



are obliged to take it every week-day. 
We seated ourselves on the piazza to 
write letters. Soon a crowd of chil- 
dren were around us, all wanting 
books, and before we knew it we were 
teaching school. George and Zack 
came with the others. George is pa- 
tient and promising. We are surprised 
at the ease with which he acquires the 
sound of words. He teaches his father 
after leaving us. 

Dr. Mason does not think Mr. 
Everett will be sick long. He needs 
rest and nourishing food. 

The captain of the Hudson offered 
to get our rations in the city. We 
gave him our bags and trust they will 
be returned well filled. At bedtime 
52 



Diary in Dixie 



we heard a boat whistle. We may 
have letters to-morrow. 

June 6. 

The store-keeper brought two stools 
for our use in school; we found it so 
hard to stand all the time. At eleven, 
Mr. Blake brought our letters, papers 
and rations. Emily left for home. 
Four letters for me, and sixty scholars 
to attend to before I could open them! 
We forgot our dinner and spent the 
afternoon reading each other's letters 
and talking of home. The rations 
were ample; we made exchanges at 
the store. 



53 



A New England JVomari *s 

June 7. 

Coming home I met Lieutenant Jen- 
kins, who told me twenty rebels had 
been caught on the island. They 
landed at a place, three or four miles 
away, called Upper Landing. The 
object of their coming is not known. 

June 9. 

School over for the week. Very, 
very hot weather. Emily has much 
headache from the long walk and ex- 
posure to the sun. School and waiting 
on Mr. Everett take so much time that 
I cannot write. He is better, but not 
able to leave his room. Mr. Blake, 
who came to see him, was surprised 
and delighted with our school; he said 
54 



Diary in Dixie 



Miss K/s and Miss S.'s school bore no 
comparison, — and they " certified" 
schoolma'ams! We are quite elated. 
Our books number a hundred and 
forty scholars, and from sixty to seventy 
are in daily attendance. Our evening 
school on the piazza is well attended, 
and we enjoy our labors. All are re- 
spectful and eager to learn. We notice 
that all the children and grown-ups 
also hold their books sidewise ; when 
we asked why, a man answered "We 
wish to learn to read on all sides. " 

June io. 

Phoebe came to wash the floors, and 
Julia, the windows. I gave the latter 
a pink calico apron, and Phoebe some 
55 



A New England Woman* s 



flour and coffee, which satisfied her. 
She said she would give herself to us 
every Saturday. To Uncle Jack, who 
cleaned up the yard, I gave a hat. He 
was tickled, never having owned a 
covering for his head before. We had 
a good dinner, — some ham, salad of 
lettuce, which Henry's grandmother 
sent us, and some biscuits without 
butter. Dr. Mason took supper with 
us. He was much amused with our 
rooms neatly papered with Springfield 
and New York papers. 

Sunday, June ii. 

Hottest morning we have had — not 
a breath of air. Dr. Mason advises 
us to leave the island as soon as pos- 

56 



Diary in Dixie 



sible — not safe for us to stay much 
longer. A woman who brought some 
cucumbers said she would make any 
sacrifice to serve us, who were doing 
so much to teach her children, who 
knew nothing but how to handle a hoe. 
George killed another rattlesnake under 
the plum tree, — they are after the 
figs — horrid creatures! 

June 12. 

Three colored clergymen visited our 
school. They told the scholars to be 
neat and clean, and to heed all that 
was taught them. 

June 13 and 14. 

Intolerably hot days — rather cooler 
at night. Had a very large school, 
57 



A New England JVomatfs 



one hundred and one scholars — too 
many — cannot keep order with so 
many. I am well worn out before 
noon with shouting and stamping, for 
I am obliged to help Emily when she 
gets into difficulty. We stayed after 
school closed with three unruly boys, 
rough and tough customers, who con- 
fessed that they liked to tease us; but 
they were ashamed and promised to 
do better in the future. 

Captain Storrs called. He told us 
there were five guerrillas at camp; 
they had been caught on the island, 
but there is no evidence to convict 
them and they will probably be set 
at liberty. 



58 



Diary in Dixie 



June 15. 

Hot, hotter, hottest! Impossible to 
go up to the church for school. The 
children came down to see why we 
did not appear. We kept them and 
had school on the piazza; Emily 
there, and I down in the yard. 

Mr. Blake brought whisky and rem- 
edies for Mr. Everett. He went to 
Beaufort for them, and nearly lost his 
life coming back. A storm arose, and 
the high wind blew their little boat 
thirty miles out to sea; if he had not 
had a small co&pass, he could not have 
got back. Mr. Blake gave us liberty 
to stop teaching when we like, and 
we have decided, as it is so fearfully 
hot and Emily's head troubles her so 
59 



A New England JVomari ' s 



much, to have school in our house 
until we can go to the bay for our 
vacation. Mr. Blake has left his poor, 
half-starved white horse for Mr. Everett 
to ride to his home. It is in our shed, 
tormented by mosquitoes and flies. 

June 16. 

Jim and Uncle Jerry have cleared 
out our big front room and arranged 
some boards on blocks for seats for the 
older children. The little ones can sit 
on the floor. Fifty came this morning. 
They are to bring stools — as many 
as have them — so we shall get on well. 

Mr. Everett bade us farewell, riding 

off on his white beast; he seemed 

pretty weak. Mr. Redpath writes that 
60 



Diary in Dixie 



we are to report to Mr. Pillsbury, as 
he himself goes North on the next 
steamer, and advises us to close our 
school. All the Charleston schools are 
closed, as there is much sickness; one 
northern teacher having died. He 
thinks we had better go North for our 
vacation. We cannot do that, for we 
should never return. 

If our friends at home could only 
see our flowers! Cloth of gold roses 
and lovely Cape Jessamines. The 
evening was pleasant; the children 
sang to us and we told them stories, 
— Red Riding Hood, etc. They had 
never listened before to stories of any 
kind, and were most attentive. 



61 



A New England JVomari* s 



June 18. 

Still close and hot. A shower at 
noon with lightning and terrible thun- 
der, as we never heard it before. 
Spent the day writing letters home 
and had Sunday school in the even- 
ing. 

June 19. 

We like the new school arrangement, 
for we do not get so warm, can wear 
loose sacks, and can spare our lungs. 

When we feel tired, we sing, which 
they all enjoy. They particularly de- 
light in singing "Hang Jeff Davis to a 
sour apple tree/' 

The children told us some of their 

experiences in slave life. One boy, 
62 



Diary in Dixie 



Tom, showed us deep scars on his 
arms; said they were from severe 
whippings. When about eight years 
old, he rode a horse to a distant place, 
and lost the colt that was following; 
and of course was whipped. Many 
of the negroes were born on the island, 
and are glad to get back to their old 
homes. 

June 20 and 21. 

Rain for two days. No children 
came, and we enjoyed the holiday. 
Heard a boat whistle, but the rain will 
prevent our sending the boys to camp 
for our letters. Sarah came to our 
room after dinner, and we had a nice 
talk. She is very quiet and never 

63 



A New England Woman* s 



talks of her experiences unless ques- 
tioned; then she speaks with reluc- 
tance and much feeling. She says "It's 
time slaves were free, they've suffered 
enough. Only Jesus knows what 
they've endured." The song, "No- 
body knows but Jesus," tells the story. 
She said no slave mother could have 
her children after they were old enough 
to be of use; they were sold or hired 
out. She had often seen her children 
abused — punished severely for small 
faults. 

She had prayed and prayed that one 

child — her oldest — might die. The 

girl was not very strong, and had the 

care of a fretful baby, when little more 

than a baby herself. At last God 
64 



Diary in Dixie 



heard her prayer, and her child died. 
No one could tell how thankful she 
was. Talk of the happiness of slaves! 
None were ever happy. They became 
hardened to their lot and were cheerful, 
but mothers were always anxious, 
dreading separation from their chil- 
dren. 

Walter, one of our scholars, told us 
that he saw a box addressed to us on 
the Charleston boat. He sat on it all 
the way. What news! probably it is 
on the wharf soaking in this rain. 

June 22. 

Rain still coming down in torrents, 
but we must have our box, so we 
started off some boys with umbrellas 

65 



A New England Woman* s 



to find out about it and bring our letters. 
They brought a big packet of letters, 
and the camp wagon brought our box 
from home, and three barrels from 
the Pillsburys in Charleston. We 
worked hard all the evening unpack- 
ing and looking over our treasures. 
Oh! such gingerbread was never before 
made and eaten. We did not care 
for supper. Phoebe was transformed 
by her new dress. Uncle Jack says 
"She will be getting a new man now 
she is so fine." Uncle Jack and Jim 
are resplendent in new coats and 
trousers. Zack is a picture in a 
Zouave suit of Jack King's. 



66 



Diary in Dixie 



June 23 and 24. 

The rain continues and everything 
is damp and sticky. The roof leaks 
badly and our chamber is in a sad 
state. George and Watson arrived 
early, having heard of our box of 
clothing. They will mend the roof, 
and we shall pay them with cloth- 
ing. Watson demanded a whole suit. 
We thought that a large order, but 
found we could fill it, even to the hat 
and boots. We first dressed up our 
immediate family, Sarah and the chil- 
dren. Ann is fine in a blue Garibaldi 
of Jeannie G.'s, and Abby in white 
pantalettes and a blue poplin, once 
Jeannie's. George wears a suit of 
Henry Freeman's and Fred Harris's hat. 

67 



A New England JVoman* s 



Mr. Blake came to say good-by 
for two months. 

Sunday, June 25. 

The sun came out and we had Sun- 
day school in the school-room. I do 
the preaching and Emily attends to 
the singing. She is highly amused at 
my teachings. What surprises me is 
that they know so little of the life of 
Christ; not knowing even of his birth, 
but they all are familiar with his say- 
ings. They all believe in a hell! I 
asked the children whom they love 
best. Some answered "God"; Zack 
said, "Ma; she loves me and feeds me." 
After school, George came and re- 
proved me for telling stories to the 
68 



Diary in Dixie 



children on Sunday. He considers it 
sinful. 

Lydia Polite came to tell us that her 
baby had died. She is a very good, 
sensible woman. 

June 26. 

Eighty children, and not enough 
room for them. We heard the alpha- 
bet classes and turned them out in the 
yard to play. A thunder shower fresh- 
ened the air so we could walk to the 
store to inquire how we could get to 
the bay. 

Since the boxes of clothing came, 
we have been besieged by half the 
island. Some, whom we do not know, 
and who live miles away, demand 

69 



A New England JVomari* s 



clothing and say they have a right to 
it. I have called Uncle Jack to the 
rescue. He knows how to deal with 
them, and explains that the clothing 
does not come from the Government, 
and that they must pay for it with 
vegetables, eggs, chickens, or what- 
ever they can bring in exchange. Be- 
fore we were up this morning, Phoebe 
appeared with a live rooster some one 
had brought. She said she would 
make a pen for it, as we were provided 
with food for the day. Before night 
two more were brought. Soon we 
shall have a rooster house. 

A girl came to school with traces of 
smallpox on her face. When ques- 
tioned, she said her baby had died 
70 



Diary in Dixie 



recently. We sent her off, indignant 
that she came, and she was equally 
indignant that she was dismissed. 

Uncle Jack has heard of a man who 
owns a horse and cart, and we have 
told him to find out what day he will 
take us to the bay. Uncle Jack says 
we have "Done spile the people here." 
Well! we can soon un-spile them. 

June 28. 

Clear, and a refreshing west wind. 
We had a sumptuous dinner, — fried 
chicken, new potatoes, green corn, and 
watermelons for dessert. Sounds well, 
our menu, but the corn was so dry it 
could not be eaten. Phoebe brought 
the live chicken in her arms "For 
7i 



A New England Woman's 



Missis' dinner, Mum/' The potatoes 
came from a man who brought a 
cracked looking-glass and asked for 
a gun in exchange. We took the glass 
and gave him coat, trousers, and a hat. 
The holes in our bedroom were filled 
with plaster made of mud and dried 
moss. 

June 30. 

We told the children when we dis- 
missed them, that this is the last day of 
school, but as we do not mean to leave 
the island immediately, we will teach 
a few if they will come to us. 

July 2. 

A visit from a Mr. Curtis who keeps 

a store at Peters Point, seven miles 
72 



Diary in Dixie 



from here. He brought the news that 
the soldiers stationed here are ordered 
to leave at once for Beaufort, to join 
the rest of the regiment. We are 
troubled because we depend upon them 
for our mail and packages. All the 
afternoon we wrote, that our letters 
might be ready for to-night's steamer. 
George, Zack, and Uncle Jack took 
them to the landing and gave them 
into the hands of Captain Storrs, who 
sent us a good-by. 

July 3. 

It is a great relief to have no school. 
Got out the materials sent from 
home and cut and fitted our bathing 
suits. 

73 



A New England JVomari* s 

We took a walk through the fields, 
and saw Lydia Polite hoeing her cot- 
ton, which looks well, full of blossoms. 
Next we saw our friends, Jerry and 
Louisa Pious, with the children, Abby 
and Ellen. They were setting out 
slips of the sweet potato vine. Abby 
handled the hoe as well as a man. 
The baby, on its back between the 
ridges was happy. 

From a row of cabins that we passed 
many of our scholars ran out to meet 
us; their nakedness was barely covered, 
but we are used to that. They asked 
us to go into their homes, which were 
miserable, dark, and dirty. Another 
friend showed us a cotton-gin soon to 
be put in order and worked. We 
74 



Diary in Dixie 



walked by a rice field; the blades 
were just above the ground, fresh and 
green. 

We had a call from Mr. Everett, 
who is quite well again. He offered 
to go down to the bay to select a house 
for us; we have agreed to go next week 
if we can find a conveyance. 

July 4. 

Independence Day. Perfect quiet 
reigns. We imagine we hear the can- 
non and firecrackers at home. It is 
so very warm that we have no life, and 
lay on the bed all the morning. James 
Russell offered us his horse and cart 
for the day for two dollars and a half. 



75 



A New England JVomatfs 



July 5. 

Up early. James Russell came with 
horse and cart, and at nine we set off 
with Zack, Ben, and our luncheon. 
The cart is what we call a dump-cart. 
We seated ourselves in the middle to 
balance, but when the horse went 
faster than a walk we were so thrown 
about that we had to sit on the floor. 
The harness was of rope — mostly 
twine; the shafts fell to the ground 
every few minutes, and Zack, who 
drove, was on the continual jump to 
replace them. We were nearly two 
hours going the three miles. When 
we reached the creek back of the bay, 
the bridge was gone, but the tide being 
low we were able to cross. Such a 

76 



Diary in Dixie 



delicious cool breeze welcomed us, 
and such a beautiful, broad, hard beach. 
We enjoyed the day, eating lunch on 
the piazza of one of the most imposing 
houses. We visited a dozen or more 
houses, looking for one suitable for 
our summer abode. The only one 
that pleased us is that selected by Mr. 
Everett for himself and the other 
teachers; as it is large enough to 
accommodate us all, we shall ask our 
friends to let us have one half the house. 

Because of the tide we had to wait 
until after sunset, starting for home 
about seven o'clock. Our horse re- 
fused to enter the creek; one of the 
men led him in, the water being only 
a little above the man's knees. Half 
77 



A New England Woman* s 



way across, the horse stopped and re- 
fused to move. Suddenly he started 
down the creek and lay down, the 
water nearly covering the cart. I 
wanted to jump out, but Emily held 
on to my dress. The men came out 
and carried us over to the land, then 
unharnessed the horse and led him 
back. 

The fright and lateness of the hour 
(for our three miles drive was through 
thick woods) decided us to remain all 
night on the beach. We went back to 
the piazza; Zack and Ben were soon 
asleep; Emily and I were not so for- 
tunate. We were heated by our long 
walk, and disturbed in mind. The 
night was glorious. A bright moon 

78 



Diary in Dixie 



made it as light as day. We walked 
the beach and watched the waves. 

July 6. 

A cool and refreshing morning after 
our uneasy night. The water's edge 
is only a few feet from the house. All 
the houses, sixty or more, are built 
close down on the beach. After we 
made our toilets, Zack built a fire and 
boiled some eggs. Before we had 
eaten them, we heard voices, and soon 
Jim and Uncle Jack appeared. All 
the people in our yard had been greatly 
worried and unable to sleep, fearing 
we had been drowned. At daybreak, 
Sarah had sent Jim and Uncle Jack 
in search of us. Soon George arrived 
79 



A New England Woman's 



He could not wait for the others 
to return. We had a fine escort as 
we went back to the place where we 
had left the horse and cart. A little 
higher up the creek was a raft on which 
we crossed. 

July 7. 

Robert came to borrow money to 
buy a "shoat." Three dollars for the 
pig and "a little more," if we could 
spare it. As Rhoda, his woman, is to 
work for us this summer, we lent him 
five dollars. 

July 9. 

Phoebe said Louisa was going to 

have some friends for tea — would we 
80 



Diary in Dixie 



contribute the sugar? They were go- 
ing to have a Praise Meeting in the 
yard, but Jim asked permission to 
have it on the back piazza if it would 
not disturb us. We consented, and 
told him we should like to be present. 
An Elder who could read, led the sing- 
ing. George held for him a lighted 
candle, which we supplied. The leader 
read one or two lines from the hymn- 
book; then they all sang, each man for 
himself. After the singing,- the Elder 
prayed. He asked the blessed Lord 
to raise the window curtains this blessed 
night and let the poor sinners look in, 
and if it was the blessed Lord's will, 
would he this blessed evening send 

down his angels with a hammer and 
8 1 



A New England Woman's 

knife and knock at every sinner's heart, 
for many there are this blessed even- 
ing, weeping and tearing their hair 
and searching for religion, and not 
knowing how to get it. They sang 
again, then the sisters walked round in 
a circle with short, quick steps, swing- 
ing their arms and singing, "Oh! 
Lord, don't be offended. Oh! Lord, 
don't judge me hard," and much more 
of the same strain. They kept this 
up a long time; the meeting lasted till 
long after midnight. One song was 
"Sister, you come too late, the Devil 
came and shut the gate and carried 
home the keys." Another, "When 
Gabriel blow his horn for Massa Jesus 

would he please blow a little louder?" 
82 



Diary in Dixie 



July io. 

Packed more of our belongings and 
finished the bathing suits. I put mine 
on and went into the yard, which 
greatly amused the children, who had 
never seen such a rig. 

July ii. 

When the man came with his wagon, 
we doubted if the horses could carry 
us three miles, they were such skele- 
tons, and the man said they could not 
drag a heavy load. We put in our 
most desirable articles and started the 
load off about ten o'clock, Jim and 
Uncle Jack walking. Cuffee came to 
sell watermelons in a nice cart, with 
a seat and a back to it, and we offered 

83 



A New England JVomatf s 



him two dollars to take us to the bay. 
We waited for Jim to get back because 
we were determined to have all our 
possessions moved before night. He 
did not get here until three o'clock 
because the horses could not pull the 
load through the sand, and the trunks 
and everything had to be "toted" on 
the men's heads across the creek and 
up the beach to the house. Then 
another load was put on the cart, and 
we packed ourselves and what we 
most needed into Cuffee's wagon and 
started. Cuffee walked. Emily held 
the strings, and I, the tin pail, box, 
etc. 

They carried the things across a 
broken bridge, a shorter way than by 

8 4 



Diary in Dixie 



the ford; and we were glad to be in 
our summer home by the sea. 

Edisto Bay, July 12. 

A beautiful morning, fresh and cool. 
Our friends soon took their departure 
for the island. We were sorry to part 
with them. 

Soon some soldiers appeared, in- 
quiring for the house which is to be 
occupied by Mr. Alden, the Govern- 
ment Superintendent of Edisto Island, 
who is to arrive to-day. 

July 13. 

Such a morning and such surf never 
were known. New life has been given 
us. We ought to have come here a 

85 



A New England JVomatfs 



month ago. We were surprised this 
morning by receiving a quart of new 
milk from Mr. Alden's house, with the 
request that we send for it every morn- 
ing. Such luxury — the first milk we 
have seen since leaving Charleston. 
As for bread, we have forgotten how 
it looks. We have corn-meal (white), 
which stirred up with water and an 
egg makes a very nice cake. 

July 15. 

Received a letter from Mr. Blake 
in Beaufort, saying that the Govern- 
ment has stopped our rations, and 
that we must either supply ourselves, 
or the society, by which we are em- 
ployed, must do so. He advised us 
86 



Diary in Dixie 



to go north, but we have decided to 
remain for the summer, at least; it is 
too warm now to take the long journey. 

Our house is pleasant and comfort- 
able, though minus a front door and 
some of the windows. We have taken 
two lower rooms; one looking on the 
water, for our sleeping and living- 
room, and the other for the dining- 
room. The kitchen is across the yard, 
which is deep with sand, washed up 
by the creek. At high tide we are 
wholly surrounded by water. 

Besides Rhoda and "her man," 
Robert, we have George, who sleeps 
across the threshold where the door 
should be; so we feel safe. 

87 



V 



A New England JVoman^s 



We have called upon Mr. Alden, 
who has horses, servants, and some 
colored soldiers, and he has promised 
to bring our mail from the landing, 
seven miles away. This is a great 
relief. 

We find the bathing delightful, and 
ventured out quite far, until Robert 
caught a shark in shore. 

Jim has been down, bringing little 

Ben for a visit. I have dressed him 

in a suit of underwear which came in 

a barrel of clothing from the " Church 

of the Disciples" (Boston). He sleeps 

on the floor beside my bed. One 

night, as he hung over my chair, he 

was uneasy, and I asked what troubled 

him. He whispered, "Is the reason 
88 



Diary in Dixie 



you don't kiss me 'cause I'm black?" 
I took him into my lap and held him 
till he slept. 

Miss Kempton and Miss Stanton 
will occupy two rooms of this house. 
They will do their own cooking and 
will not interfere with us. 

We have only two chairs — mine, 
a steamer chair; Emily's, a pretty 
straight-backed one; very tiresome to 
sit in long at a time ; we often exchange 
and oftener stretch ourselves on the 
floor to rest. Our great need is drink- 
ing water. There is an open cistern 
back of the house; this we used till a 
party of our colored visitors in a frolic 
threw their hats into it. A burly old 
darky waded in and fished them out, 

8 9 



A New England Woman* s 



and since then we have used water- 
melons to quench our thirst. A coat, 
vest, or hat in exchange will get us a 
plenty. We keep a pile on the floor 
of our dining-room, and cut one when 
thirsty. 

Our food is getting low. We are 
often hungry. Government flour is 
full of weevils, little bugs, that baking 
does not kill. We pick out the wrig- 
gling creatures and eat the bread 
dipped in molasses, but soon we shall 
have eggs and vegetables. 

A child has been born to Sarah. 
She has not named it yet, as it is con- 
sidered bad luck to give a name to a 
child before it is a month old. She 

means to call her Mary Emily. 
90 



Diary in Dixie 



We carried some clothing to our 
namesake, a light-colored individual 
with a large head of wool, and found 
poor Sarah in great trouble. We knew 
that Zack and Marjorie had been sick 
with fever, and now Jim is very ill. 

The bill from the store made to 
"Mrs. Mary teacher/' is a curiosity. 

Mr. Everett has astonished us all. 
He has received from the society in 
Boston one hundred dollars for two 
months' rations for the five teachers 
on Edisto. 

The blacks at the landing are dis- 
satisfied. There is trouble about their 
rations, and they complain that Willis, 
9 1 



A New England Woman* s 



the man in charge, is cruel. He says 
he has acted under Mr. Alden's orders, 
and so they are angry with him too. 
There are some three hundred of them. 
Several were put under guard Satur- 
day, and the trial comes Monday. We 
are anxious, but Mr. Alden has no 
fears. 

On Sunday Mr. Alden went to the 
two churches and talked to the people, 
telling them "the law." The women 
were turned out of church before the 
men began to talk. 

When Jim was sick, Sarah sent her 

baby to the neighbors to be cared for, 

and devoted herself to the sick ones. 

We did everything in our power, giving 
92 



Diary in Dixie 



money and other things to make them 
comfortable. Jim died the twelfth of 
September. Sarah had succumbed to 
the same disease, and two weeks later 
she died. The last time I saw her, she 
asked me to take her seven children 
north to my "plantation." I prom- 
ised to do all I could. 

We told Judy, who had taken the 
baby, that we would clothe it and pay 
her for its care, but she got tired of the 
child, and one day left it at our house 
and slipped away. Rhoda begged me 
to keep it and let her care for it, but I 
declined, knowing Mistress Rhoda and 
myself too well to enter into such a 
partnership. One of our neighbors, a 
young woman, took it for a time. 
93 



A New England Woman's 



We consulted Mr. Alden about the 
children. George was old enough to 
take care of himself. Zack was given 
to a woman, who promised to treat 
him as her own. The younger chil- 
dren and baby were sent, several weeks 
later, to the Charleston orphan asylum. 

Mary Emily did not live long, nor 
did Charlotte, who was a sickly little 
girl. Poor little Ben, the most affec- 
tionate of them all, refused to eat, and 
died of homesickness the next winter. 

My sister, who came down to visit 
us, carried Ann, aged seven, and an- 
other little girl, Maggie Murphy, home 
with her. They have lived in Spring- 
field ever since. Both are capable 
women. After we went north I sent 



Diary in Dixie 



for George and Zack, that they might 
work on our place, but they were so 
well employed at the Phosphate Works 
that we thought they would be happier 
if left among their own people. 

We gave the stewardess of one of 
the New York boats money to bring 
little Marjorie to us, but when my 
brother-in-law went to the boat to get 
her, he was told that she was dying. 

In October Mr. Alden was told to 
bring the people together that General 
Howard might talk to them about their 
future. On the nineteenth a cavalcade 
of twenty negroes, mounted on horses 
and mules of all kinds and sizes rushed 
down to the landing, and formed two 
95 



A New England Woman's 



lines, through which General Saxton 
and General Howard, with the other 
gentlemen, passed, receiving the horse- 
men's salute. 

The church was crowded. General 
Howard, in simple words, said that 
he, being their friend, had been sent 
by the President to tell them that the 
owners of the land, their old masters, 
had been pardoned, and their planta- 
tions were to be given back to them; 
that they wanted to come back to 
cultivate the land, and would hire the 
blacks to work for them. 

At first the people could not under- 
stand, but as the meaning struck them, 
that they must give up their little 
homes and gardens, and work again 

9 6 



Diary in Dixie 



for others, there was a general mur- 
mur of dissatisfaction. General How- 
ard's task grew more painful. He 
begged them to lay aside their bitter 
feelings, and to become reconciled to 
their old masters. We heard mur- 
murs of "No, never." "Can't do it." 
General Howard proposed that three \ 
men be chosen to represent the people, 
to consult and report to him. 

Meantime they were asked to sing, 
and burst forth with "Nobody knows 
the trouble I see," and "Wandering 
in the wilderness of sorrow and gloom." 
Two of the largest owners came down 
with General Howard. Many of their 
old slaves were in the church. It was 
touching to see them saying." How dy" 
97 



A New England Woman's 



to each other. The gentlemen also 
felt it. Tears were in their eyes. One 
of them made a long ad3ress. 

Still the negroes would not trust them 
or their promises, declaring that they 
never could work again "for the Se- 
cesh." One said "It was very dis- 
tressful." Another that he could 
forgive his old master, as he hoped 
to be forgiven, but he had lived all 
his life with a basket over his head, 
and now that it had been taken off 
and air and sunlight had come to him, 
he could not consent to have the bas- 
ket over him again. It was a hard 
day for them, poor creatures. 

The committee came back after some 
time, saying they could come to no 

9 8 



Diary in Dixie 



decision, they were too much shaken 
to see things clearly. 

A few days later, they drew up the 
following petition to the President: 

Dear president Johnson 
Of the united States 
Wee the freedmen of South Car- 
lina wish to adress you with a few 
lines Conserning the sad feelings that 
is now resting upon our minds wee 
pray that god may guive you helth & 
good spirets that when you receive 
theas few notasis that you may receive 
them as the father did the prodical 
son wee have for the last four yars 
ben studing with justis and the best 
of our ability what step wee should 
99 



A New England Woman's 



take to become a peple: wee have 

lernt to respect all Just Causes that 

ever came from the union. 

" Mag genrl howard has paid the 

freedmen of South Carlinah a visit & 

caled a meating on Edisto Island South 

Carliner in the Centrel part of the 

island at the priskple Church thair hee 

beutifly addressed the freedmen of 

this island after his adress a grate 

many of the peple understanding what 

was said they got aroused & awoke to 

perfict sense to stody for them Selves 

what part of this law would rest against 

us, wee said in rafarence to what he 

said that nothing did apier at that time 

to bee very opressing upon us but the 

one thing that is wee freedmen should 
ioo 



Diary in Dixie 



work for wages for our former oners 
or eny other man president Johnson 
of u st I do say . . . man that have 
stud upon the feal of battle & have 
shot there master & sons now Going 
to ask ether one for bread or for shelter 
or Comfortable for his wife & children 
sunch a thing the u st should not 
aught to Expect a man (to do) . . 

Continuing, they said: "the King 
of south Carolina ask the Privalage to 
have the stage that he might a Dress 
the ordenence [audience] of the freed- 
men. . . " 

This was the beginning of a scorch- 
ing arraignment of the "old master," 
who had spoken at the meeting, who 
pretended to "such a fealing to Com- 

IOI 

i 



A New England Woman's 



ply with the best order & also what 
was the best for the freedmen. . . 
"Here is Plenty Whidow & Fatherles 
that have serve you as slave now losen 
a home," and they beg that you "give 
Each one of them a acres & a \ to a 
family as you has the labers & the 
Profet of there Yearly [early] Youth/' 
And when "the Questin was asked 
him by General Howard, what would 
it sell your lan for a acres his anser 
the I would not take a hunderd $100 
of a acres that is a part of his union 
fealing so then we therefore lose fate 
[faith] in this southern Gentelman " 
And then they beseech "the wise presi- 
don that sets on his seat" to give them 
"a Chance to Recover out of this 

102 



Diary in Dixie 



trubble," . . . " these 3 Committee 
has Pleg the Trouth to you dis day. 
Oct. 25 1865." 

All of us at headquarters were in- 
vited to dine on Christmas with Cap- 
tain and Mrs. Towles, and their friends 
on Wadmelaw Island. It was a foggy 
morning, and we were not in the best 
of spirits. Four of the soldiers rowed 
us in a pontoon. The dinner of wild 
turkey, etc., was excellent. The ladies 
who were asked to meet us, and whom 
we liked, had been sent out by the 
Philadelphia Society. 

Captain Towles had got a fiddle and 

an old negro to play it, and insisted 

upon our dancing, because it was 
103 



A New England JVomari* s 



Christmas and we must be merry. It 
was bad music and worse dancing, 
but we danced ourselves into a great 
heat and great good spirits. 

At seven we started for home, think- 
ing an hour's rowing would bring us to 
Edisto. The night was lovely, a clear 
moonlight, and the tide in our favor. 
Soon we were in a dense fog, and it 
was difficult for the gentlemen to know 
where and when to turn to find the 
various creeks leading to Edisto. We 
were weary and uncomfortable, in fact 
lost, and at one o'clock, when the moon 
had set and we were in darkness, Cap- 
tain Bacheller gave the order to land. 
We went ashore through deep mud, 

climbed a steep bank and found our- 
104 



Diary in Dixie 



selves under some trees on what seemed 
to be an uninhabited island. The 
soldiers made a big camp-fire, and we 
lay down upon rubber blankets, a log 
covered with pine boughs and moss 
as a pillow. We were aroused by 
voices of men, who with their dogs 
had been hunting coons. To our sur- 
prise we learned from them that we 
were still on Wadmelaw Island. They 
told us how to get home. We slept 
once more and at six o'clock set off 
on the waters again, the fog being still 
very thick. 

Again it was all a mystery and we 
proceeded much in the way of the 
night before, when suddenly we heard 
the drums at headquarters. 

105 



A New England JVomatfs 

As we stepped upon the landing a 
note from Mr. Alden was given to 
Captain Bacheller with "Sad news" 
written upon it. He hurriedly opened 
the letter, and told us that our friends, 
Miss Kempton, Miss Stanton, and 
their friend, Mr. J. P. Blake, had been 
drowned in St. Pierre Creek. We 
were stunned, but drove immediately 
to their home, the Middleton Place. 

They had been to see some friends 

two miles down the creek, and had 

nearly reached the landing on their 

return, when screams were heard; the 

boat, which was small and unsea- 

worthy, had been overturned, and they 

were in the water. Mr. Blake was 

lame and unable to swim, and the 
1 06 



Diary in Dixie 



young women could not. A boat was 
quickly put out, but only the hats and 
cloaks of the girls were found floating 
near the spot. 

Miss Kempton's body was recov- 
ered the next day. She was buried in 
the graveyard, back of the Congrega- 
tional Church. Captain Bacheller read 
the service. All her school children 
came to look upon her, and walked to 
the churchyard singing as they went. 
Two of our hymns were also sung. 
Three weeks afterwards, Miss Stan- 
ton's body was brought back hf the 
sea, and she was buried beside Ellen. 
Stones to mark the graves were sent 
down by their own people. 



A New England Woman's 



When we broke up the pleasant 
summer home in October, we es- 
tablished ourselves at the beautiful 
Seabrook place, which had been 
headquarters when we first came. 
We were much more comfortable than 
we had been in our first home. To be 
sure, the roof leaked and we were in 
danger of being drowned out, but we 
had become used to that. The win- 
dows were unglazed, except in those 
rooms in actual use. There were dis- 
turbing sounds in the garret where, 
upon investigation, we saw bones of 
birds and rats and heard unearthly 
spittings and hissings from behind a 
board. We thought these were made 

by '"possums," but later, when a 
1 08 



Diary in Dixie 



pretty white owl was caught in the 
garret, and several flew past our 
window to the top of the house, 
we concluded that it was owls and 
not "'possums" that we heard at dead 
of night. 

The school was in a building once 
used as a billiard room, which accom- 
modated a large number of pupils. 
We often had a hundred and twenty, 
and when word went forth that sup- 
plies had come, the number increased. 
Indeed, it was so crowded that we told 
the men and women they must stay 
away to leave space for the children, 
as we considered teaching them more 
important. They left in high dudgeon. 

Our work was easier because the chil- 
109 



A New England Woman's 

dren were of a better class and had 
had some instruction. 

When we made out the school re- 
port to send to Boston, we were sur- 
prised that out of the hundred, only 
three children knew their age, nor had 
they the slightest idea of it; one large 
boy told me he was "Three months 
old." The next day many of them 
brought pieces of wood or bits of paper 
with straight marks made on them to 
show how many years they had lived. 
One boy brought a family record 
written in a small book. 

A false report having been circu- 
lated in Charleston, that the negroes 
on Edisto were in a state of insurrec- 
tion, General Beecher sent here early in 



Diary in Dixie 



December eighty colored soldiers with 
two (white) officers. We helped the 
gentlemen to start their mess, and the 
soldiers were a help to us in many ways. 

We had been inconvenienced by the 
lack of a chimney in the schoolhouse. 
One day when, choking with smoke, 
we asked the children if some of their 
fathers could not come and fix the 
stove, they began, "I haven't any 
father" — "I live with Aunty," and 
so on. We were surprised to learn 
how orphaned our school was. Eight 
of Captain Bacheller's men built a 
chimney for us. In return we gave 
each of them a book, which pleased 
them. They were fine-looking fellows 
and all of them could read. 



A New England Woman's 

On New Year's day we went to the 
dinner given by the Captain to the 
soldiers. Their mess-room, the old 
storehouse of the plantation, was dec- 
orated with pine boughs and gray 
moss. The men spoke pieces, which 
they had committed to memory for 
the first time in their lives, and one, 
who two years ago did not know his 
letters, read the Emancipation Proc- 
lamation. 

In January smallpox broke out 

among the soldiers quartered on our 

place. Many of our scholars took it, 

and we closed the school for five weeks. 

We escaped, although in continual 

danger, for the negroes, even when 

repulsively sick, were so eager for our 
112 



Diary in Dixie 



gifts of clothing that they forced their 
way to our very bedrooms, and our 
carryall, drawn by men, was used to 
carry the patients to the improvised 
hospital. Several of our earliest friends 
on the Whaley place died. When on 
Monday, February twenty-sixth, we 
began school again, we had thirteen 
pupils. One of them, when asked if 
there was smallpox at her plantation, 
answered, "No, the last one died Sat- 
urday." On the third day one hun- 
dred children had come back. 

Twice we had to go to Charleston. 
Several steamers touched at Edisto, 
but we sailed generally on the John 
A dams ^ a Boston ferry-boat, which 

1*3 



A New England JVomatfs 



the fortunes of war had brought to 
these strange waters. Both times we 
were detained eoming back; once by 
fog and once by nightfall, which made 
navigation unsafe because of the ob- 
structions placed in the river during 
the war by the Confederates. An- 
chored out at sea, in an East Boston 
ferry-boat, literally crammed with 
blacks, pigs, poultry, and furniture, 
was, to say the least, uncomfortable. 
The novelty of these visits was meat, 
which was a food unknown for months 
at a time at Edisto; the pleasure was 
in meeting Mrs. Pillsbury, who was 
always the same dear, kind lady. They 
had moved from their beautiful house 
to one that was dark and disagreeable, 
J14 



Diary in Dixie 



A (government) horse was sent to 
Emily; we had the carryall and a 
buggy which came from home. We 
were altogether so comfortable that 
we invited my sister Elizabeth, my 
friend Mrs. French, and Emily's sister 
and her husband to visit us. They 
came in February; helped us with our 
school and criticised our housekeeping. 

Robert and Rhoda had come with 
us from the bay. Rhoda was not the 
best of cooks, and now that she was 
"Striving for religion, " she and Robert 
had to go to so many "Shouts" and 
dances that we moved them into 
the basement, so that they might not 
disturb us by their late hours. 

Perhaps this "Striving" was the 
ii5 



A New England JVomatfs 



cause of her erratic cooking. We ate 
in silence the dried beef which she 
fried for breakfast, only wondering 
why the bacon was so queer. 

Our friends, knowing that Emily 
was unusually fastidious, were sur- 
prised that we could live "In such a 
shiftless way." They said they "Would 
have things decent and the food 
properly cooked." We offered them 
the privilege of employing their New 
England energy in keeping house for 
us. One day was enough. At the 
end of it I asked my friend where she 
had been all day? "In the kitchen, 
holding up the stovepipe so that Lizzie 
could bake!" 

They taught the alphabet to the 
116 



Diary in Dixie 



little children who had forgotten it 
during the smallpox vacation, and 
they clothed the older ones, who went 
from the school to the house in squads 
of four or five, coming back completely 
metamorphosed, their mouths stretched 
from ear to ear with delight. 

Among the many boxes of clothing 
sent by our Springfield and Boston 
friends was one from Mr. Wilcox, the 
Springfield milliner, filled with Shaker 
bonnets. The little negroes did not 
know how to put them on, but they 
liked them so well that they would not 
take them off, and the school presented 
a queer appearance to our guests, who 
could not know our reason for per- 
mitting this breach of decorum. 
117 



A New England Woman* s 



The white people of Edisto have in- 
deed suffered, but now their homes are 
to be given back to them. The island 
negroes and those brought here by 
our bewildered, blundering Govern- 
ment have had, and will have, harder 
days than their masters. Among those 
that we have known, however painful 
their experience, and whether accus- 
tomed formerly to easy routine as 
house-servants or to rougher field ser- 
vice, not one among them would 
choose ease with servitude rather than 
suffering with freedom. 

In October we saw at the wharf 

several sickly looking families sitting 

round fires, waiting for the steamer to 

carry them off. Two persons who 
118 



Diary in Dixie 



had died in the night from fever and 
exposure were lying on the bare ground. 
In the building which we were to use 
for our school, were two families in a 
terrible condition. One mother, who 
was dying, had seven half-naked and 
half-starved children. All these people 
had been too sick to leave by the last 
boat and had crawled back here. Mr. 
Alden had them taken care of and fed, 
for they had already used their small 
crop for food. Mr. Hubbard, of Bos- 
ton, to whom I wrote, sent me a bale 
of blankets to distribute among them. 

Added to their natural dislike to 
serve their old masters, many of them 
have had bitter experiences, which in- 
crease their unwillingness. One, named 
119 



A New England JVomdtf s 



Venus, told us that she had just come 
from the "Main," where she had been 
working all summer; she said: "I put 
my finger to pencil to sign contract to 
work all summer for one tenth of the 
crop, and when it was harvested, I had 
one quart of molasses and one bushel 
of corn, and I and my family were 
sent away." She added that she never 
would work for a "Secesh" again. 
Many of them were industrious. One 
warm day in December when we were 
looking for a pupil on the Townsend 
place, who, we were told, lived in 
"The last nigger house on Nigger 
Street," we went into a cabin, where a 
woman was so busy at a cotton-gin 
that she did not turn her head when 

120 



Diary in Dixie 



she greeted us. We asked how much 
cotton she could gin a day. "Don* 
no, missis, no 'casion for to task my- 
self now; Rebs gone." 

Occasionally they were glad to see 
their old masters, but I sometimes saw 
the "How dy" and outstretched hand 
rejected. Meeting after meeting was 
held to reconcile them to the changed 
and difficult conditions. On one oc- 
casion, when explanations only seemed 
to create greater antagonism, I ven- 
tured a remark, and was quickly told 
by Ishmael, their leader, that I had 
"Better go into the house and attend 
to study," thus showing early in his 
life as freedman, that he had learned 

the proper sphere of woman. 

121 



A New England Woman's 



In February, when we went to the 
Middleton place to pack the trunks 
which belonged to Miss Kempton and 
Miss Stanton, we saw all the negroes 
coming in from the fields, their hoes 
over their shoulders. They told us 
that the guard had ordered them to 
. leave the plantation if they would not 
agree to work for the owners. Sorely 
troubled they appealed to us. We 
could only tell them to obey orders. 
After this many of the Sherman ne- 
groes left the island. 

In the spring I went home for a 

month to see my father, leaving my 

sister to help Emily with the school. 

During the winter and spring, plant- 
122 



Diary in Dixie 



ers were coming and going to arrange 
with the government representative for 
their repossession. Many of them 
were gentlemen, who came into our 
school and whom we entertained at 
our table, but when they were in pos- 
session and were joined by their fam- 
ilies, it was different. The women 
ignored us. 

In May we moved to the bay 

with our school benches and books, 

and had a large school there, but a 

month later the Freedmen's Bureau 

was dissolved and we were notified 

that our services were no longer needed. 

As we were so well established, we 

obtained permission from the Super* 
123 



A New England Woman* s 



intendent of Schools in Charleston to 
continue, although our large salary 
of twenty dollars a month was stopped. 
My salary had always been paid 
through the Bureau by Mr. Charles 
Hubbard, of Boston, whose pleasure it 
was to be responsible for one teacher. 

Mr. Alden was dismissed and the 
island was again under military super- 
vision. 

We closed the school in July, but the 
heat was so intense that we did not 
wish to travel until it was cooler. 

In September we returned the 
"Union" horse and confiscated carry- 
all, which had served us and the 
smallpox patients, and sent to Gov- 
ernor Aiken his furniture which we 
124 



Diary in Dixie 



had bought from the negroes; one 
piece was the armchair given him by 
his mother when he was elected gov- 
ernor of South Carolina. 

The houses all about us were occu- 
pied by Edisto families, who had taken 
possession of their own. Mr. Edings, 
the owner of the house we had lived 
in both summers, wrote that he too 
wanted to come back. There was no 
place for us, and in the last week of 
September, 1866, we said good-by to 
Edisto and our negro friends. 



125 



